


You couldn’t, could you?

by Codango



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Flirting, Hands, Humor, Injury Recovery, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Calls & Telephones, Sexual Frustration, Teasing, Tsunderes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 23:59:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5890198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codango/pseuds/Codango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m not in a lot of pain,” Kei mumbled, a little unsure why he felt the need to insist.</p><p>“Uh huh. Could you jack off right now?”</p><p>“Wh-what?!” Kei sat up straight, the quick movement sending a throb up his entire arm and back down again. </p><p>“You couldn’t, could you? If it hurts too much to jack off, pop a pill.”</p><p>“Th-this is the kind of advice that you think a senpai gives?” Kei glanced at the mirror over his desk. He really hated how he looked with a bright red face. </p><p>“I’m just saying, it’s a good pain tolerance metric.”</p><p>“... I’m hanging up.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	You couldn’t, could you?

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Ты ведь не можешь?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6272884) by [named_Juan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/named_Juan/pseuds/named_Juan)



> Takes place right after the Shiratorizawa match in the spring high representative playoffs. Spoilers for ch177 (when Tsukishima injures his hand) to current.
> 
> Very loosely based on this lovely piece of fanart by [Keaichin](http://keaichin.tumblr.com/post/130729777117/%E0%B9%90-%E0%A7%B9-%E0%A7%B9-%E0%B9%90-spoiler-im-sorry-i-was-busy).
> 
> Aaaand totally followed up with a [7-chapter fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7234666/chapters/16423879) because I am a loser

The bus drive home was over.

The noisy, emotion-raged dinner with the team was a distant memory. Hinata’s appetite, Kageyama’s tearful stone face, Nishinoya and Tanaka shouting unintelligibly at each other. Yamaguchi’s relief, evident in careful touches to knees and shoulders and arms. 

Kei was home now. Showered and beyond ready to be face down on his sheets. He had managed to shove Akiteru out the door within a couple hours. He was pretty sure his brother would have stayed till dawn, rehashing every moment of the match against Shiratorizawa.

That  _ match.  _

Kei hadn’t felt so drained emotionally since… since middle school probably. If he’d ever been one for introspection, he probably would have assumed it wasn’t even possible for him to feel so much all at once anymore. 

The little finger on his right hand hurt like hell. Dislocated and ripped at the webbing, it looked purple and swollen and altogether alarming. It was splinted of course. Taped and all. You could still see the color and swelling creep down the side of his hand all the way to his wrist though.

Kei sat on the edge of his bed and held up his hand to the light. He frowned.  _ What bullshit.  _ He’d gone and ruined his hand and for what? Just a club.

He flumped back on the bed, his feet still flat on the floor. He was being melodramatic, and he knew it, and it was all just so  _ weird_. Kei didn’t go in for drama _ ever_, and here he was whining to himself about his “ruined” hand. 

Not ruined.

Just a little useless for a while.

And very, very  _ fucking  _ painful. 

_ Wonder if Kuroo or Bokuto’s ever done this?  _ A throb went through his hand, and Kei sucked in a breath hard.  _ And how do I make sure I never do this again?  _

They’d given him a bottle of pills when they’d set the dislocation. He was currently grateful the nurse had ignored him when he’d said he didn’t need them. 

Kei reached for the little bottle on his nightstand. His phone vibrated next to it. 

**_Unknown_ ** **_  
_ ** _ hey its kuroo. long story got your number. obvs. you there? _

Kei allowed himself a slow blink. Nekoma Kuroo? Blocker Kuroo? Third-year Kuroo? “What on earth…?” he mumbled.

It shouldn’t have been surprising that holding the phone hurt. All the adrenaline from the game was gone, taking with it a convenient distraction from the pain. 

Rather than futz around with texting, Kei hit the call button, turned on the speaker, and set the phone next to his head on the bed.

“Tsukishima?”

Kei stared at the ceiling for a bit. How…  _ bizarre  _ to hear that voice coming through technology instead of the other side of a volleyball net. “Yeah?”

“... just yeah?” That smirky laugh that was annoyingly familiar. 

“You were expecting something more specific?” 

“There’s my boy. You got me on speaker or something? The sound is shit, you know.”

“Sorry.” Kei did not feel at all sorry. He cradled his hand against his chest. “What’s the long story?”

“What?”

“You said you got my number, and it was a long story. How’d you get it?”

A soft laugh. “You mad?”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Icy. I made Kenma get it from Shrimpy.”

_ Hinata.  _ Kei frowned. The entire team had everyone’s numbers, at Daichi’s insistence. 

After a pause, Kuroo prodded, “So how you doin’, glasses-kun?”

“Fine.” The reply was automatic. Another throb went through his hand, and Kei bit his lip.

“Yeah, sure. Your match was on TV, you know. I saw what happened.”

Kei’s eyes flew open wide. 

“You were gone for ten points. Couldn’t see a lot on TV, but I’m guessing that means whatever happened to your hand wasn’t a quick fix.”

“I came back and finished the match.” 

“Well, aren’t you the king of evasive answers?” Kuroo clucked. 

Kei frowned. He had learned months ago that the Nekoma captain only looked like an idiot. Kei blew out a breath. “Fine. I dislocated my pinky.”

“... what.”

“And the skin between the ring finger and little finger tore.” 

“God, Tsukishima.”

“Not enough to need stitches though.” A perverse bit of pleasure curled in Kei’s gut. If Kuroo wanted the details, Kei could see that he had them.

Kuroo let the pause lengthen. “You… you dislocated a  _ finger_, and you went back out and _ played_?” 

Kei furrowed his brow. Kuroo actually sounded pissed. “It’s not a big deal—”

“It  _ is  _ a fucking big deal! I can’t believe your coach let you play again, did he know you’d dislocated it? You didn’t  _ not  _ tell him that, did you? You  _ idiot_, if you play with weakened ligaments, you can really—” 

“Coach Ukai trusts me to know what I’m capable of.” Whether or not that was entirely true was not something Kei felt like speculating. Least of all with Kuroo. The last thing Kuroo needed was more ammunition that Kei was just as inexperienced as he thought he was.

“Oh my god, Tsukishima,” Kuroo groused. “It’s mean to take advantage of your coach like that. He probably can’t read you worth shit.”

Kei gritted his teeth. “You think you’re better at that than my own coach?”

“Tsukki, darling, the poor man has a bunch of other overclocked idiots on his team to worry about beyond you.”

Kei felt honest-to-god heat rush to his face at  _ “Tsukki, darling.” _ “And you give me crap for being evasive.”

“Fine. Yes, I think I’m better at reading you than your own coach.”

Kei snorted, and he hoped the speaker picked it up.

“For example,” Kuroo continued loftily, “I imagine you’re downing pain pills like they’re illegal. You can’t even hold your phone right now.”

“Am not.” Kei glanced at the pill bottle. He just hadn’t gotten to them yet. 

“I have dislocated things before. Let your senpai encourage you not to do anything stupid before you’ve healed.”

“My senpai?” Kei laughed and tried to make it sound scornful. 

“And you’re not going to impress anyone by how much pain you can endure, so take your damn meds.”

“I’m not in a lot of pain,” Kei mumbled, a little unsure why he felt the need to insist.

“Uh huh. Could you jack off right now?”

“Wh- _what?!_ ” Kei sat up straight, the quick movement sending a throb up his entire arm and back down again. 

“You couldn’t, could you? If it hurts too much to jack off, pop a pill.”

“Th- _this_ is the kind of advice that you think a senpai gives?” Kei glanced at the mirror over his desk. He really hated how he looked with a bright red face.

“I’m just saying, it’s a good pain tolerance metric.”

“... I’m hanging up.”

“So soon? I thought we were getting along rather well.” Kuroo couldn’t have made himself sound innocent if he wanted to. Kei sincerely doubted that he ever wanted to.

“Yeah, well, I’m tired.”

“Of course you are,” Kuroo agreed, smooth as silk. “Congratulations on a game well played, by the way, should have led with that. Hope you feel better soon.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Kei managed, belatedly remembering to be polite. 

“And remember the pill thing. If you can’t—”

“ _Bye,_ Kuroo-san.” Kei ended the call to the sound of snickering in Tokyo. 

Kei swallowed a pill with water, shucked off his sweats — trying to put his arm through a T-shirt had seemed like a lot of trouble after his shower — and crawled under the covers. He winced as a sheet rubbed against the swollen skin of his right hand. 

He couldn’t imagine trying to jack off right now. 

Goddammit,  _ why  _ had Kuroo brought that up?! It was like the old trick, “don’t think about purple elephants.” Jacking off was all Kei could damn well focus on right now. He bit his lip. Also, ta-da, your hand’s busted, have fun with that.

_ Whatever_. 

Roll over, go to sleep, it’ll pass.

…

Think about  _ how your hand hurts.  _

Think about volleyball.

Think about the game.

That would work. Kei closed his eyes, pictured the net, pictured the spikes that went over him, that blew past him, that overpowered him. Ushijima appeared in his mind’s eye, rising above the net, arm back, ready to send a shock wave into his hand.

Kuroo probably could have shut him out more than once. He was a star middle blocker from a top school, after all.

Kei let his hand rest above his head on a pillow. Kuroo said he’d “dislocated things” before. Would he have busted his hand on an Ushijima spike though? Kuroo’s hands were pretty powerful. Kei had seen them stop spikes from Hinata and even Azumane. Kuroo would have known to get his hand in a better position, rather than catching the brunt of an attack like that on his fingertips. 

Kei shifted against the sheets. He was still half hard; it felt nice being pressed against the mattress. 

_ Stop it. Volleyball, focus. You’re not doing this right now. _

How did Kuroo get hands and arms like that anyway? They were slim, of course, but kind of like bones wrapped in lots and lots and lots of rubber bands. Hard and flexible and — Kei shook his head. Kuroo was a third-year, for crying out loud. Of  _ course  _ his arms were amazing.

His legs were too, naturally. That went with the territory. Hamstrings like carved sandstone.

Kei nearly choked.  _ Sandstone, are you kidding me?!  _ Unfortunately, his brain was outvoted, and other features of his body accepted the image and ran with it.  _ Well. Well. His hair is ridiculous!  _ Kei tried. Just a bird’s nest of black spiky bedhead. Was that really what he looked like when he woke up?

Kei was indecisive for a moment, but. His hand was aching, and the distraction was welcome. He buried his nose in his pillow and tried to stop the blush he could feel crawling up his neck.

What if Kuroo’s hair looked even worse after, you know, making out with someone? Would Kuroo mind if someone ran their hands through his hair? Like maybe while they were on a couch or…

_ in bed_, Kei’s mind insisted. _ Like this one. The one that you’re in.  _

What if Kuroo were next to him right now. Long and dark and hard all over, with that fucking grin that Kei just  _ hated_. 

_ “Could you jack off right now?”  _

Kuroo’s voice whispered in Kei’s memory, and Kei opened his mouth against his pillow in a soundless gasp.

_ “You couldn’t, could you?” _

“You absolute… fuck,” Kei hissed into his dark bedroom. He was pressing hard into his mattress now, but when his right hand so much as twitched, it sent fire up his whole arm.

Kei would say no, but if Kuroo were here…. 

If Kuroo were here, he had better fucking volunteer to make things right. Kei wouldn’t degrade himself to  _ ask_, but Kuroo was probably a thirsty bastard anyway. 

_ “Want me to help?” _

No, Kei would say, glaring down his nose at the lean piece of arrogance in his bed.  _ Not at all. What, you think I’m turned on right now? Pathetic. _

Kuroo would pout, and his stupid black hair would fall over his eyes.  _ “I would though. If you wanted me to.” _

_ Really? Because that sounds like  _ you  _ want to.  _ Kei would find a way to make sure the third-year knew he was completely responsible for all this.

_ “Why, Tsukki, I thought you’d never ask!”  _ And Kuroo would climb over his back — because Kei wasn’t going to move, he was on his stomach and perfectly comfortable, and if Kuroo wanted this, then he’d have to — spread those strong hands across Kei’s shoulders. Down his aching back.

Kuroo would sweep his hands around Kei’s waist. Slip them underneath his body and maybe… yeah, probably outside the boxers to start with.

Kei ground his hips into the mattress, bit a corner of his pillow.  _ This complete ASSHOLE. _

_ “You can stop pretending, Tsukki.” _ Kuroo might whisper in his ear. He was a team captain after all. He probably stopped joking around at some point. Probably took control eventually.  _ “Stop pretending this isn’t exactly what you want.”  _

Kei gasped and tugged down his boxers with his left hand. It was too different, not enough, not right, but… maybe Kuroo would feel different too? Someone else wouldn’t touch you the exact same way you did it for yourself, surely. 

He was rutting into his mattress now, frustrated and sweating, and  _ it wasn’t enough dammit_. Kei paused, annoyed, hard, and goddamn _ leaking_. He growled low in his throat. To his credit, he only really considered Googling “hands-free masturbation” for about two seconds. 

Fucking Kuroo,  _ really_. He had to have known what he— 

Kei’s eyes shot open wide. “Oh my god.” 

_ Did he know??  _ No. No no no, he couldn’t have  _ known_. No one could _ know.  _ But did Kuroo bring up jacking off on purpose? Kei felt his dick twitch with interest. And the next tantalizing thought… was Kuroo jacking off right now?

Kei felt a little dirty. Could Kuroo be jacking off while Kei was thinking about him like this? Kei’s mind leaped ahead, and his left hand dove back under his boxers. What if. What  _ if_. Kuroo was thinking about _ him?  _

Kei cocked a knee for a better angle and stroked. Kuroo, stretched out on his own bed, somewhere in Tokyo. A really fucking gorgeous third-year with legs and arms for days. He was thinking about Kei. First-year Kei, who was always too lanky and unfriendly and weird. Kei, who sucked at making friends and understanding why people cared about all the shit they cared about. Somewhere in another city, someone was thinking about  _ him  _ and wanting  _ him_. 

Kei came as he always did — quietly, mouth open into his pillow, with the tiniest shudders. 

His breathing slowed. His right hand throbbed. And just before he fell into warm sleep, Kei thought:

_ I am absolutely going to kill that man the next time I see him. _

 

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder...this has a follow-up fic: _[He Always Starts Something](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7234666/chapters/16423879)_. It's also part of a larger universe with two other fics, so ENJOY.
> 
> [@codango](http://codango.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr
> 
> [Marcella Christie](http://marcellachristie.com/) for my alter ego


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